Curse of the Unspoken
by Soul Reaver
Summary: Centuries after Harry Mason's adventure one man's journey into Silent Hill begins. His choices may either end a curse placed upon a family or forever continue it on...Please R
1. Prologue and Prophesy

Prologue and Prophesy  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Silent Hill franchise in any way, shape or form. The characters Diane Schonke and Rusty Puckett are my creation. Be patient, the futuristic universe I created will be explained as the story goes on.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Prophesy: The Half Eared One will come at a time unknown. He has the power to end the curse or spread it..."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ September 19, 2149: I sit in a diner at the small New England town of Brahms, nursing a steaming cup of coffee. My partner, Diane Schonke was supposed to be here at least five minutes ago. That's not like her to be late without a good reason.  
  
I know, I know, I shouldn't worry about her like that. She's a grown, intelligent woman, a lieutenant in the United Systems Navy like myself, and very likely she's just stuck in traffic with her cell phone in the recharger after trying to get through to me. But still I worry about her.  
  
Just what is it I do exactly? I used to be a platoon officer with the Navy Scouts and Raiders, Scout Team Two out of Little Creek Virginia until I had a nasty accident aboard the USS Killhouse, our ship takedown training simulator. We were supposed to use dummy grenades to clear compartments on the ship. What happened was that some moron accidentally used a live grenade. I survived, obviously, with a ruptured eardrum to show for it. Now I work in a unique branch of the Navy Criminal Investigative Service, it's a covert undercover unit with limited counterterrorism capabilities. We're required to pose as civilians as well as other military personnel on occasion, and on days like today I think I'm an actual civilian. So that we don't give the populace a scare both me and Diane are wearing civilian garb.  
  
We were supposed to meet a witness here, a Mrs. Dahlia Gillespie I believe her was. About three weeks ago a sailor on liberty was murdered in this area and this old widow claimed to know the cause of it. Colonel Jacob Franks, our commanding officer, and an ex-infantry Marine assigned me and Lieutenant Schonke to the case.  
  
My cell phone rings just then and I answer it, "Puckett?"  
  
"Hi Rusty, this is Diane." The voice of a familiar brunette sounds on the other end of the line, "I'm just gonna be a little late. There's been an accident on I-95 and they just detour set up through the town of Silent Hill. You know these back country roads."  
  
She laughs lightly on the other end of the line. I laugh back, but inwardly I wonder why the hell I'm feeling a mixture of déjà vu and dread mixed into one feeling. "Yeah, I'll wait for you for fifteen minutes. If you're not there I'll go look for you."  
  
"Rusty, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself." Diane says.  
  
"I know." I reply, "But in case you get lost...."  
  
"That's sweet of you Rusty, but I'm pretty sure I can find my way into Brahms easily enough." Diane replies abruptly.  
  
"OK." I reply, "See you in Brahms."  
  
I sit at the booth, waiting, as I sip a cup of coffee that's growing colder with each passing minute. I stand up occasionally and pace around the diner, much to the annoyance of patron and server alike. A blonde floozy of a waitress named Flo or something like that goes and says, "Can I get you something cowboy?"  
  
"No thanks." I reply, with a hint of politeness.  
  
"She still hasn't shown up has she? I wonder is she really worth it?" the floozy continues.  
  
"What business is that of yours?" I reply with a cold, even tone. The floozy's beginning to cotton to the fact that pissing me off is not a very smart thing to do.  
  
My cell phone rings again and I pick it up. "Puckett?"  
  
No answer. Just static is what's on the other end. The caller is identified by the built in ID system as Diane. Now I'm really starting to worry and peering out my watch I see her fifteen minutes of grace time have been up for at least five minutes.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"I'm late." Diane Schonke groaned as she pushed a stray strand of her short brown hair away from her face, "Rusty's really gonna rub this one in my face."  
  
She had called him about a minute ago, after that accident on the interstate and the detour that took her through some back roads. She had been investigating the dump site where the mutilated corpse of Petty Officer Third Class Tonya Davies had been discovered. Rusty was following a lead of his own; he seemed to have discovered a witness.  
  
She had known Rusty for eleven years, since they were classmates at the Naval Academy. She knew he was impulsive, apparently disorganized, but one hell of an investigator. Whenever he found a solution to a problem, he'd go after it all ahead full and steamroll through any obstacles in his way. He could also be stubborn as well whenever he was convinced he was right.  
  
About fifteen minutes had passed since she had driven down the eerie country road. It was still mid morning when the sky started to darken briefly to the most pitching black it could ever be. "An eclipse?" Diane said to herself. This was just creepy, Diane felt. First the sky starts darkening and then that siren sound she heard five minutes ago.  
  
A sound pierced the silence just then. It was the sound of an anguished wailing. Diane stopped her red Ford Mustang by a nearby embankment and headed over to investigate.  
  
'I'd better call Rusty. He's bound to wonder where I am right now.' Diane thought, 'Hah, Raoul Armand Puckett you're not the only one who can find leads.'  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Rusty's POV)  
  
The forest is dark and foggy and my damn watch must be broken. I'm wandering through the woods, following a voice. My eyes have long since adjusted to the dark, since pulling night ops in the Rung Sat Special Zone of the Mekong River in 2142-44.  
  
"Rusty, where are you?" It's Diane, she's somewhere in the woods and she's looking for me.  
  
"I'll be right there." I shout back. For some reason the voice grows more distant the further I go. My attempts to follow it seem to fail miserably. All of a sudden the ground falls out from beneath me and I fall into a black, bottomless pit hearing wordless screams and mumblings in Latin over and over again.  
  
"Shit." I groan. I went to sit inside my Land Rover for a few minutes when the floozy was getting to damned nosy and I must've fallen asleep. I've been out cold for half an hour. Diane still hasn't shown up, now I'm really worried. I pick up my cell phone and call our boss.  
  
"Franks?"  
  
"Sir, this is Puckett. I've been here for almost an hour and Lieutenant Schonke hasn't shown up." I reply.  
  
"Puckett, have you found this Gillespie lady yet?"  
  
"No sir."  
  
"See to it that you do."  
  
"Sir, request permission to go and look for Lieutenant Schonke, it's not like her to be this late."  
  
"Absolutely not Puckett." Franks replied, "You said yourself it took forever to convince her to leave Silent Hill to talk to you two. If she doesn't find you she'll probably not speak to anyone else again."  
  
"Sir, with all due respect -" I reply.  
  
"Listen, Rusty," Franks says, his voice taking on the paternal tone it usually does when I'm about to get in over my head, "Diane's a grown woman, she can take care of herself."  
  
Damn it you bastard. I think inwardly, you only use our first names when we're off duty or when I worry about her like that. I'm so lost in thought that I barely hear his next statement, "Gillespie's your top priority. She says she has the information we need for this case, and she said specifically that she would only talk to the two of you."  
  
"Sir," I reply, I can be fairly bullheaded when it comes to Diane a lot of the time, "I only ask for fifteen minutes to..."  
  
"Puckett, stay where you are, that's an order." Franks said.  
  
"Yes sir." I reply, with a bad taste in my mouth. I finger the Smith and Wesson 9mm pistol in the shoulder holster under my beat up brown leather jacket. Why am I getting the feeling trouble's getting underway? I only get that feeling when something is afoot.  
  
Orders be damned, my partner's in trouble and I've got to find her fast. If I get a call from Franks I'll tell him I'm making a house call to the witness. I start up my Land Rover and drive down the Interstate towards the town of Silent Hill. There are answers I need right now. But why do I get the distinct feeling that I'm gonna uncover more than I ever am gonna want to know? 


	2. Premonitions and Deja Vu

Premonitions and Déjà vu  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Woe unto he who runs afoul of this town." - Unknown soul in Silent Hill  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Rusty's POV)  
  
Jimmy Buffet is still singing about Margaritaville, someplace I'd rather be right now. Hell I'd settle for the Rung Sat all over again for eternity just to know she's safe. I know Franks isn't gonna buy any excuse I give him for violating his explicit order that I stay where I was, doing nothing.  
  
I decided I'd pop in some music while I drive down the road when my radio started emitting weird static. I grabbed my Jimmy Buffet CD and put it into the slot to play. It's only about fourteen hundred and the sky's turning dark. What the hell is going on around here?  
  
I check my inner pockets of my coat where I have about four extra clips for my Smith and Wesson on me. As I approach the Silent Hill city limits I feel all the hairs on the back of my head sticking up. There's something seriously voodoo about this place and when I find Diane I'm gonna chew her out for taking a detour through a place that reeks of something just plain bad.  
  
My headlights are still on as the sky takes its familiar overcast gray tone. I try Diane's cell phone again and get no answer. "Some people claim that there's a woman to blame..." I idly sing along, trying to suppress my worry.  
  
Franks is gonna have my ass and I know it. Frankly right now I couldn't give two shakes of a.....SHIT!!!!!! What looks like a seven year old girl walking down the road causes me to swerve the car violently and nearly causes me to lose control and hit the side of a rocky wall.  
  
I manage to avoid hitting the kid as I round the next bend in the road; I should be coming up on the town of Silent Hill. I catch sight of a red Mustang stopped alongside an embankment topped by a wire fence for some sort of livestock. I hear the plaintive bleating of goats on the hilltop. I slam the brakes on for the second time in ten minutes and pull up next to the car. I confirm that it is Diane's car right next to the embankment.  
  
Now I know something's amiss. "Diane?" I shout into the air, "Where are you?"  
  
The only answer I get is the bleating of a lousy goat. I walk up to her car. There's no sign of damage, I don't smell any leaking fluids or see any puddles near it. Why would she have abandoned her car even if it stalled out? Unless there's a house over the top of the hill and she went to call for help from there. But then I would have received some sort of call from her. Maybe I'm just being paranoid again...  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Where am I?" Diane asked herself as she wandered through the halls of a completely unfamiliar building. The way it looked and smelled, it was a hospital of some sort. But there was something wrong. For one thing it was too quiet, it lacked the milling around, the hum of activity that a hospital usually would have. And there was something else, something she couldn't exactly explain. There was just something creepy and disturbing about this place.  
  
"Are you OK hon?" asked a nurse as she walked into the room.  
  
"I'm fine. Why am I here?" Diane asked.  
  
"You had a little accident on the road." The nurse explained with a calm, completely placid and detached manner.  
  
"Huh? No I didn't." Diane protested, "The last thing I remember was calling Rusty on my cell phone and...."  
  
"This should help you sleep." The nurse said, grabbing Diane's right arm with surprising strength and injecting a syringe into the vein.  
  
"What's going on?" Diane asked, "What accident..."  
  
"Rest darling, answers are coming...." The nurse said in a soothingly calm voice as the young woman fell into a drug induced sleep. The voice suddenly changed into one retaining the calm tone but this time it had a rich almost demonic baritone, ".....But you're not going to like them at all."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(An unknown POV)  
  
He is here. I can feel his presence in the town. He is wandering, searching for the other. A new soul I can add to my menagerie to be mine for all of eternity. As she sleeps a dreamless sleep, I wait eagerly for the Half Eared one to come. I have waited for his arrival for centuries, though prophesy foretells his coming may hail my destruction. But if the other side of the coin is true, he will proliferate my presence far beyond the boundaries of this town.  
  
He is an interesting soul to say the least. One exposed to darkness, yet he still yearns for the light. His soul is at a fork in the road. It can either surrender to the abyss heartache, strife and war have created for it or it can rise above it. If he chooses the latter option I will be forever damned, my portal to this world closed for eternity, my name forgotten.  
  
The woman is the key, I discover. His feelings about her are strong, I can guess by his apparently rash actions of late. He appears to have said something about disobeying a direct order from his superiors to find her. His personality is such that he doesn't give up easily and will literally risk life and limb for this female. Quite a curious combination, an otherwise logical and rational man is pulled by emotion in this case to find one single human female. I think I just may have found myself in luck.  
  
I shall amuse myself with the sleeping one first. It has been a long time since I've had anyone to toy around with. I was beginning to grow bored....  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Diane awoke to a start. What had once been a room in the hospital had taken a complete 180. The place felt creepy, no evil was more accurate, to begin with and now what lay beneath seemed to have arisen to the surface. Diane hugged her red fleece jacket close to her body, the chill not coming from the cold but more from something that had been making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end since she was brought into the hospital.  
  
As she walked out into the hallway she could hear the sound of a child crying. "Hello?" Diane shouted into the hall, "Where are you?"  
  
"Over here." The pitiful little voice said.  
  
"Stay where you are, I'll be right there." Diane replied. The floor beneath her feet had changed from linoleum to steel grating that sent eerie echoes through the bare concrete walls of the building that hummed with some sort of machinery noise.  
  
"Who are you?" the child said.  
  
"I'm here to help you." Diane replied, "Please, tell me what room you're in."  
  
"I don't know where I am? I'm lost..."  
  
'That makes two of us kid.' Diane thought, while she was out cold they must have put her purse and the contents of her pocket, including her cell phone somewhere else.  
  
"I'm over here!" the child shouted. It was a girl, maybe seven or eight years of age, if the voice were any indication.  
  
It was coming from a rusted metal door to Diane's right. She opened the door and saw a little girl wearing a tattered blue dress that was covered in grime and rust. A small dog chain wrapped around her left ankle and secured to the floor gave her about eight feet of walking distance. Diane took the little girl in her arms instinctively, and then recoiled. Something was wrong with the girl, she was just too calm for the distress she had been showing earlier.  
  
'Poor things probably been kept like this for a week, maybe more. She must be in shock or maybe has Stockholm syndrome.' Diane thought, her criminal investigative instincts kicking in. There was a bad smell emanating from the child's ankle. Diane checked it while the little girl regarded her with adult eyes, certainly incongruous to her age. The chain had chafed away quite a bit of skin, leaving nasty welts and scarring around the area where it had been wrapped tightly six times. There was the smell of early infection.  
  
"What's your name?" Diane asked the child softly. The girl stared at her for a minute, before answering.  
  
"My name's Alessa." The child said, "What's yours?"  
  
"Diane. Can you be a big girl for a minute Alessa? I'm going to get something to cut this chain with then I'll look after your ankle." Diane replied.  
  
"Please stay here, Diane." Alessa begged.  
  
"I'll come back for you. I need to get rid of that nasty chain on your foot. Who did this to you?" Diane asked.  
  
"Please don't leave, the mean people are gonna come back if you don't stay." Alessa replied.  
  
"I'm not gonna be gone long." Diane said, soothingly, "I'm gonna get some tools to cut the chain and some medicine for your cuts."  
  
"No! Please! Don't go! DON'T GO!!!!!!" Alessa shrieked hysterically when Diane walked out into the hallway.  
  
Diane walked through the hallway. She hadn't gotten more than ten feet when she tripped over something on the floor. It was her purse. Diane smiled to herself, though she didn't have bolt cutters in it, she at least had her cell phone, a mace spray can and her Colt .38 Detective Special with six rounds of ammunition in the chamber.  
  
She hit the speed dial for Rusty and saw the signal go out. "Yes!!!" she said, quietly to herself.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Rusty's POV)  
  
My cell phone just rang just now. I pick it up, "Puckett?"  
  
"Rusty? Thank God. Where are you?"  
  
"Diane? Just on the outskirts of town. I just found your car. Where are you?"  
  
"Rusty, listen to me. I think I'm at Silent Hill hospital, but I'm not sure. Now I'm in some kind of weird industrial place." Diane said, "It's like a factory or something. I'm not really sure where I am."  
  
"Diane, stay where you are." I reply, "I'm coming to get you."  
  
"Rusty, wait, there's something else. There's a kidnapped girl down here, named Alessa. She's only seven years old. I'm gonna try to rescue her...." Diane replied. Damn you, don't put yourself in danger, I've got a real bad feeling about this place. But when she's set to do something, she does it, anything I say be damned.  
  
"Diane, listen to me. Stay where you are and wait for me. There might be kidnappers around." I reply, "Are you armed?"  
  
"I've got my .38 and my mace spray." Diane replies.  
  
"Go find a room, lock yourself in and wait for me." I reply.  
  
"Raoul Armand Puckett, are you implying I can't handle myself." Diane replies sharply. I've only done that a handful of times, and each time I know to back off.  
  
"No, not at all, I'm just saying be careful. This kid could get you in over your head." I reply.  
  
"Since when has risk ever stopped you?" Diane replies, she's still ticked off at me for my concern.  
  
"Never, but..." I reply. I bite off my next remark. Just because she may not have my combat experience doesn't mean she can't handle herself, but I still worry about her.  
  
"The last place I remember is Silent Hill Hospital. Wherever I am now, I don't know. I'm gonna try to help Alessa." Diane replies.  
  
"I'm on my way, hang on!" I reply.  
  
"Rusty, there's..." Diane replies. The reply is cut off by a sharp scream and a gunshot.  
  
God damn it!!! She better be alright or I'm gonna tear those bastards into bloody shards. I try to start my car, but for some reason its seized up. I kick the engine block in frustration. Of all the times for this thing to do that, why now when Diane's very likely in trouble...Or God forbid dead. I'm never gonna forgive myself if that's the case...  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
A/N: Sorry this chapter's so short, I've got a History paper to go write. I'll add more chapters later on, especially if I get a review (hint hint). 


	3. Shroud

Shroud  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before....The Biohazard War mentioned lasted from 2139- 2145 and was a worldwide struggle against people infected with a mutagenic virus.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Rusty's POV)  
  
The streets of the town are unbelievably silent. I know from a brochure I found near Diane's car that the place is a peaceful, quiet community, but at 1600 (four o'clock in the afternoon) the place should be teeming with activity. I'm feeling the hair on the back of my neck rising, it's almost like there's something really wrong with this town. I wish someone was out here, anyone, even some crazy old beggar who knows how to find the hospital. I hope to God that what I heard over the line twenty minutes ago wasn't Diane's last stand.  
  
That bad feeling I've been having since this morning is really starting to magnify. It's as if I know something about this place, but that's absurd, I've never been here in my entire life. I see a spot of red on a chain link fence in a nearby alley. It's blood.  
  
'Dear God! It better not be Diane's!' is my first thought as I pull my Smith out and hold it ready to fire. As I proceed down the alley I have a sense of overwhelming dread, but my legs won't slow down. It's as if I know that I won't like what I see, but I have to see the sight that will greet my eyes. The alley gets darker, apparently the sun mustn't be shining through.  
  
The indistinct mutterings I heard in my dream earlier are starting to become more distinct. It is one phrase, actually, and one that I hear over and over again, "Liberate tutemae ex inferis."  
  
I know some Latin, and the meaning of the words is already starting to make my blood turn to ice. They mean, "Save yourself from hell...."  
  
Again the voice sounds, it's a male, aged yet timeless at the same time. One that speaks of untold and great horrors beyond all telling, horrors he has witnessed. My grip on the Smith and Wesson is tighter. I grit my teeth and go. If I have to go and see just what six eyed, fire breathing freak is leaving blood and saying what I'm hearing to find Diane, by all means I'll do it.  
  
I reach the end of the alley and am greeted by the most horrific of sights that I have ever witnessed in my life. Trussed to the chain link fence is an older, bald gentleman, his body tied in the manner of Christ at the Crucifixion, his kneecaps are broken and his eyes are sewn shut. He's still alive, for he is murmuring, "Liberate tutemae ex inferis."  
  
As I get closer it intensifies as if some force from beyond is giving him greater energy than before, "Liberate tutemae ex inferis! LIBERATE TUTEMAE EX INFERIS!!!!!"  
  
Suddenly I see three little creatures, maybe about the height of a toddler, but their wielding little knives and there's no mistaking their hostile intent. I raise my Smith and Wesson and put two rounds in the head of the first creature. Before the body hits the deck I have my weapon on the second and have already shot it dead square between the eyes. The third follows quickly. My pistol shooting skills are still sharp, as I'm proud to discover.  
  
Suddenly the walls of alley start closing in. Just like in Poe's the Pit and the Pendulum and the next thing I know I feel the air leaving my lungs as my bones begin to crunch one by one.....  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Diane's POV)  
  
My eyes open slowly; I'm not sure where I am right now. All I know is some little girl was calling to me earlier and...Oh my God! Alessa! I completely forgot! I sit up to find myself sitting in a bed. It's a hospital bed, just like before. But how did I get here? Where was I before? And why does this hospital put chills in me like I've never felt in my life?  
  
"Ma'am." A nurse says, she's an older lady with a matronly bedside manner that seems more than a little forced, "Your clothes and purse are in the next room. Just sign your name on this sheet to check out."  
  
She holds a clipboard and pen in front of me and I sign my discharge papers and walk into the tiny bathroom. Stripping off the hospital gown I check myself for any sort of injury, not a scratch. I distinctly recall being hit from behind by some heavy object after I saw something lumber my way. It was a mannequin with a crowbar and it tried to hit me. I shot it with my .38 but as I check my purse there are still six rounds in the chamber. I get dressed, using the tiny shower that's in the room to freshen up first. If I spend one more second in this hospital I'm gonna go crazy.  
  
I walk out into the street, pick up my cell phone and dial Franks' number. It won't go through for some reason. Rusty's number is next and it only rings twice before I get a battery low message. I forgot to charge my phone this morning, of all the times to do that. I walk down the street, wondering why I get the feeling that I have to leave this town in a hurry together with the feeling I'm being watched.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Nurse's POV)  
  
Yet another victim to this town's credit, she doesn't suspect a thing. Not yet at least. I took the empty shell casing from her weapon and put a fresh one in. Master, her heart is strong, though she appears fragile on the outside.  
  
In time she, like all the others before her, shall break. Lost and consumed by the terror that haunts Silent Hill...  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Unknown POV)  
  
The man intrigues me again. Much of his life he has spent running away from his problems, yet he possesses a strength of will and courage that is rare among mortal men. He doesn't give up easily, though tormented by many inner demons that ravage him from within. His heart is definitely that of a warrior and he will be hard to destroy. His soul as that of a poet, his feelings are strong for the woman that has left the hospital, ostensibly after an accident. His thoughts have been for her safety. Perhaps I can use that to my advantage in his destruction.  
  
What a riddle a man who runs from his problems yet fought in an elite military unit.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC) Compound Nha Trang, Vietnam June 28, 2143  
  
Lieutenant (junior grade) Rusty Puckett crouched into the sandbag bunker as an energy orb projectile exploded beside it. He had his Stingray Mk II Paratrooper Carbine held in one hand and then he raised himself over the parapet, firing on two Gollums that had charged into the hole in the wire.  
  
This was fast turning into a bloody fight that would involve massive shelling from energy orb projectors and crude explosives followed by a massive wave assaults by the ogres, zombies and Gollums. To think they were once human, but now mutated by an unknown virus was the most tragic. So far the men at the JSOC Compound were holding their ground, being some of the most elite fighting men of the United Systems Military.  
  
A short, powerfully built man with the shoulders of a water buffalo jumped into the bunker carrying a Kamov squad automatic weapon. The Kamov was a weapon chambered for the 20mm cartridge and was a short barreled full automatic weapon fed through a 150 drum or box magazine and had one of the highest firing rates of any weapon in the USM arsenal.  
  
"Hell of a fight, isn't it sir?" said the man, Gunner's Mate 2nd Class Gary Thomas.  
  
"Sure as hell is, Gary, put some fire on those sappers coming in from the south." Rusty said, peering over the sandbags. Sure enough a team of three Gollums with a portable energy orb projector were putting some fire on a group of Army Special Forces guys on the eastern perimeter.  
  
"Aye sir." Gary replied, "Would you like fries with that?"  
  
Rusty laughed despite himself. The guy was barely twenty-two years old, barely two years younger than Rusty's twenty-four years. He was fresh out of BUD/S (Basic Underwater Demoltion/Scout) school, and a newcomer to Scout Team Two. In the few ops he pulled, Gary was always willing to volunteer for any mission. He was also a platoon favorite, a born comedian.  
  
Everybody loved Gary's sense of humor and zest for life. It was always said by any of the men on the team that Gary knew how to find a good time. He was also a loyal friend, and one hell of a Teammate. Rusty could barely count the number of times that Gary took risks whenever his fellow Scouts were in danger. He could see the kid running along, ducking among whatever cover he could, firing his Kamov all the while.  
  
Rusty saw two Rangers ducked behind a low wall. Forgetting the danger, Rusty ran up behind them, joining them at their position.  
  
A skinny kid with a blonde buzz cut, a private, looked him in the face, "What the hell do we do now, sir!"  
  
Rusty shouted, indicating Gary as he did, "Join the fight and give that man some cover damn it!"  
  
Another orb exploded and Rusty ducked, holding his camouflage bush hat to his head. The two Rangers had started shooting steadily at the enemy teams. Rusty ran into Hospital Corpsman 1st Class "Doc" Quint treating a casualty.  
  
"Doc, who's hit?" Rusty shouted.  
  
"Meynard's down, gut shot, but I stabilized him for travel. I'm working on Choi right now." Quint replied. His electric gun was at his side, but he had his medical pack out in front as he raced among wounded soldiers, sailors and marines.  
  
The sixteen man Scout platoon had been pulled from the Rung Sat Special Zone outside of Saigon to Nha Trang in order to be briefed on the new Area of Operations, the Nung River near Cambodia. They were to spend six weeks of teaching the men of the 178th Cambodian and 11th Vietnamese Divisions small unit tactics and patrolling as well as jungle warfare. They hadn't been there for more than twenty-four hours when the enemy launched a massive assault on the JSOC Compound as well as all over South East Asia from Southern China all the way to Singapore.  
  
"Where's LT?" Puckett asked, referring to Lieutenant Mark Tyler, the platoon officer.  
  
"He's dead sir." Quint replied, "You're in charge."  
  
Puckett felt the blood drain from his face. Mark wasn't just his platoon officer, he was also one of his best friends from high school. Three years older, Mark had been a role model for the young Rusty and now he was dead.  
  
Chief Corleone, or the Don as the men on the team liked to call Kilo Platoon's chief, ran up to Puckett, "Sir, we've got three from our team down."  
  
"Well aware of that Chief." Puckett said, nervously.  
  
"Who's in charge right now?" Chief asked.  
  
"I guess I am, Chief." Rusty said. He looked into the eyes of the man, a lean, powerfully built and seasoned warrior. His steel gray eyes radiated a confidence that Rusty did not feel.  
  
"No guess Mr. Puckett, you're in command." Chief said.  
  
"Right!" Puckett said, "Get Two Feathers, Banks and Sico to the south perimeter, I located several sappers approaching us from there. They keep trying to take that radio shed at the southeast corner, it's giving them good fire on the main compound."  
  
"Yes sir, already taken care of." Chief replied.  
  
"Chief, take Parhouz and Gomez to the eastern perimeter and try to rally those Rangers over there. They're a bunch of newbies fresh out of Ranger school, not even in country for three days." Rusty replied.  
  
"Aye sir." Chief replied.  
  
"Doc, when you've finished with Choi, go link up with as many of the medics as you can. Start getting them to move the wounded to the shelter and pool your supplies." Puckett replied, "I'm taking Artie and Osborne to the south perimeter to help Gary out."  
  
"Got it sir." Doc replied.  
  
"Sir? I'm sorry I screwed up. It's my first trip and I get hit." Choi said. He was a newly badged Quartermaster from San Francisco who had reported to the platoon with Gary just as they deployed.  
  
"Don't worry kid, you'll be fine." Rusty said, the kid wasn't even nineteen and he had taken a shrapnel round through the side of his rib.  
  
"Doc, how bad?" Rusty said.  
  
"I can get him stabilized but I can't guarantee...." Doc said.  
  
Puckett cut him off, "Never mind Doc, tell me after this is done. Keep working. Choi, hang in there, that's an order."  
  
"Yes sir." Choi replied.  
  
Rusty ran to the south perimeter where he found Bosun's Mate 3rd Class Artie Chambers and Aviation Electrician 2nd Class "Oz" Osborne with his MG- 70 light machinegun shooting steadily towards the crest of the hill. Gary was right next to them.  
  
"How bad?" Rusty asked.  
  
"Pretty fucking bad sir." Gary said, "They've taken the hill and they've got some energy orb projection tubes as well as a couple heavy machineguns up there."  
  
"They ain't fully consolidated yet. If I can get to that shell crater it should give me enough cover to put some fire on them." Gary replied.  
  
"Right. Artie, Oz, cover Gary on my signal, I'm gonna see if I can't get some help from those Marines over to our left." Puckett replied, indicating a platoon of Recon Marines that were duking it out with some zombie wave attacks that came after the energy orb barrages.  
  
"Go!" Rusty shouted, flicking the selector switch on his carbine to full auto. The three men started firing, covering their team mate. Oz was shooting his machinegun steadily at any movement atop the hill. Artie had his shotgun firing at any creature that came too close.  
  
Suddenly a burst of gunfire sounded from the hill and Gary toppled backward. "Gary!" Rusty shouted and leaped over the sandbags, running all the way to his downed teammate.  
  
Without being told Artie and Oz intensified their fire. "Artie, in about two seconds run over to Puckett."  
  
"I'm already there Oz!" Artie shouted, running, keeping low. A Gollum popped up from a shell crater and Artie blasted him at point blank, tearing the creature's head from its body.  
  
"How's Gary?" Artie shouted.  
  
"He's dead!" Rusty began, "Help me get him to that crater."  
  
Artie complied. As they got in, Oz jumped into the hole as well. "I got the Marines' blood up. They're ready to make a rush on that hill when we are."  
  
"Ok." Rusty replied, blinking his eyes once. He handed a letter to Oz from the pocket of his tiger stripe camouflage fatigues, "Oz, send this if I don't make it back."  
  
"Yes sir." Oz replied.  
  
Rusty picked up Gary's weapon, looking into the brown eyes of the man. They were eyes once full of life and mirth, but now empty of both. He closed the eyes of the man, crossed himself, slung his carbine and ran up the hill firing the Kamov as he went.  
  
That was what the Marines had been waiting for. Suddenly a platoon of forty very angry Marines charged up the hill with Artie and Oz joining in. Rusty threw the Kamov down when it ran out of ammunition and started shooting his carbine at anything that appeared on the hill. He felt the impact to his left shoulder, describing it as being struck by a baseball at 90 mph and a bee sting simultaneously.  
  
"LT!" Artie shouted, running over to his side, firing his shotgun into the enemy forces atop the hill as he went.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Rusty's POV)  
  
I feel myself coming too somewhere. It isn't the alley and there's no body crucified on a fence. An old bald guy is standing over me. It's the same old bald guy that I had seen bleeding and dying not more than five minutes ago. I find myself in a dress shop of all places. I can't help but smile.  
  
"Well, finally awake sleepy head?" The old man asks.  
  
"Where am I? Who the hell are you?" I ask.  
  
"So many questions, so much time." The old man replies.  
  
God damn him, Diane's life could be in danger and that mumbo jumbo is all he can give me. "Look pal, what is going on here? Have you seen a woman, brown hair, about 5'7", wearing a red fleece jacket over a red turtleneck sweater and jeans?" I ask.  
  
"Silent Hill. A peaceful community with a dark secret." The old man continues, "Rest son, you've had an accident."  
  
No shit I got crushed by a wall, and by all accounts I should be dead. I don't even have a scratch on me. How could that be true? Unless I got knocked out somewhere and started dreaming of the JSOC Compound after I dreamt of seeing this guy bleeding on a fence.  
  
"Listen, I've got to find my friend. She could be in trouble right now." I reply and leave the old man's shop.  
  
"Beware the Unspoken." He says as I leave the shop, taking a complimentary street map from the counter as I do so.  
  
As I walk outside I hear what sounds like wings flapping and instinctively I duck. What I see fly by is something straight out of those cheesy paperback horror novels I read as a kid. But this isn't a dream, it can't possibly be. I can do one of two things. I can deny its real, curl up into a little ball and hide, or I can accept the situation and go from there. I raise my Smith and Wesson and fire two rounds into the thing when it dives down towards me and it skids across the pavement, with two holes in its head.  
  
I shoot it twice more when it twitches to make sure the thing is dead. I kick the body and it doesn't move. If there are more of these things loose in the town...I don't wanna even think about Diane because its making me worry again. I've got to get indoors, fast, before I can do anything.  
  
I manage to break into a small convenience store. Looking around I take stock of my ammo. I've got ten rounds left in my current clip plus four extras. I'm gonna have to go look for some additional weaponry if I'm hoping to find Diane before something else does.  
  
I look behind the counter and lying on the floor are some papers. I look at them and one has the words 22 Bradbury Street written on it. Some sixth sense is telling me that in order to find Diane and then get the hell out of here, in that order, that I've gotta head over there. Why is it, then that I know I'm not gonna like what I find?  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Diane's POV)  
  
I haven't gotten more than two blocks from the hospital when I find the body of a man bleeding on the pavement. I instantly turn him on his back to check for a pulse and when I do, I pull back, running smack into a chain link fence. I recoil in horror when I see that his throat has been torn out of his neck. It looks like a dog did this but why didn't anyone stop it? Come to think of it, where the hell is everyone?  
  
Less than two blocks down Koontz Street is the Alchemella Hospital and they couldn't save this man? What is going on here? First the creepy nurse, then the fact I ended up over here, and now this. Has this town gone insane?  
  
At any rate Rusty's probably worried himself sick by now and has come after me. Just what I need, an ex-Navy Scout and Raider man turned criminal investigator with a huge hero complex. Granted its sweet sometimes but he does this come to my rescue thing a bit too much for my liking. I wish he'd have more faith in my abilities and stop with the big brother act he has a tendency to pull on cases. Like earlier today when offered to help me find my way to Brahms. It was sweet, but I wish he had more faith in me than that. While I appreciate a good, caring guy, I think Rusty overdoes the chivalry thing sometimes.  
  
What's going on here? First the dead body in the street unattended and now it's getting dark again. Almost as soon it goes back to normal. Walking down the street I run into this old lady which I quickly recognize as Dahlia Gillispie, our witness to who killed Petty Officer Tonya Davies.  
  
"You are too late child. It is too late to turn back." She begins cryptically.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Ha ha. Evil cliffhanger I know. What will become of Diane? Will Rusty find her in time? 


	4. By Inferno's Light

By Inferno's Light  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before. By Inferno's Light is the title of a DS9 episode I thought would fit this fic. Shyaku, do you mean Diane and Rusty as antagonists (the correct term for them is protagonist since they are the heroine and hero of this fic respectively. The Unspoken is the antagonist.)  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Unknown POV)  
  
The Half-Eared One is braver than I thought. Perhaps war does that to a man, his courage is remarkable as is his single minded drive to find the other trapped in this town. Yes, my servant, she is the key to this curse.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Rusty's POV)  
  
Using that street map that I took from the shop I'm walking down Bachman Street, out of the convenience store. My instincts tell me to go through a nearby alleyway after a barricade of some kind is in my way. I could climb it, but if any of those flying bastards showed up I'd be shit out of luck. I could go back around, but it'd be a long walk to Bradbury Street and if Diane is there time is of the essence.  
  
I walk into the alley, with my Smith and Wesson out and a fresh clip loaded in. My track record with alleys so far hasn't been good, so it's understandable I've got some apprehension. As I move deeper down the alley between Bachman Road and Ellroy Street I find a torn piece of paper that looks like it came out of Diane's day planner.  
  
On it the words, 2 Ellroy Street are clearly written in her handwriting. It gives me some sort of hope to see this, for I can deduce she's still alive and her captors moved her down this alleyway. Somehow she was able to make note of where they were going. Whoever's holding her is either careless or is trying to walk me into a trap. I'm hoping for the former but expecting the latter when something strikes me in the back.  
  
I whirl around, expecting anything but the sight I find. It's a severed head of a dog, breed unknown lying on the pavement. Around what's left of its neck is a red piece of fabric from what can only be Diane's sweater.  
  
"Hey! Where the hell are you? Show yourself you bastard!" I shout into the air. If it was one of the kidnappers that she was going on about earlier, he can't have gotten far. The only thing I hear is the echo of my own voice. I can only see one way this guy could have come from, the Ellroy Street side of this alley.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Diane's POV)  
  
"You are too late child. It is too late to turn back." Dahlia Gillespie begins.  
  
"What? What do you mean?" I ask. I don't know but she's giving me the creeps, she may look old and frail but some sixth sense is telling me something's not right with our witness.  
  
"There is great evil afoot." Dahlia Gillespie began.  
  
"Is that what killed Tonya Davies?" I ask.  
  
"It has, is, and will claim many a soul." Dahlia replies.  
  
"What? Are you saying that this has happened before?" I ask.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Who's responsible for it? Is it one person? A gang?" I ask, trying to determine guilt. I've already figured a cult is involved, though when I even alluded to it at the office, Rusty went pale and I swear he almost fainted. Something tells me he knows more about this than he lets on.  
  
"By Inferno's Light, all shall be revealed child." Dahlia replies.  
  
There was some sort of ritualistic injury on Davis' body when the police found it. There was also ligature, suggesting she'd been tied in place. Most strangely her restraints were characteristic of those used in mental hospitals. I really think Rusty was trying to be funny when he suggested the whole town could be involved in this, like in some kind of B rated horror movie. Talking to Dahlia Gillespie is starting to give that idea serious merit.  
  
I luckily have an extra cell phone battery in my purse and after putting it in, I speed dial Rusty's number and give him a call.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Rusty's POV)  
  
I've no sooner reached the end of the alley when my phone starts ringing, "Puckett?"  
  
"Rusty?" it's Diane, and I can't imagine how relieved and terrified I feel at the same time, "Where are you."  
  
"I'm at the Ellroy Street Alley the one from Bachman Street." I reply, "Are you alright, where are you? How many of them are there?"  
  
"I'm a couple blocks from the Alchemellia Hospital. I found our witness. How many of who?"  
  
Jesus Christ! You just gave me the biggest scare of my life and we're back to the case again! "Diane, there's something seriously wrong with this town...I thought that whoever kidnapped that kid might have gotten you as well."  
  
"I know." Diane replies, "The hospital is especially creepy. There's a little girl missing named Alessa, these people were holding her in some kind of industrial area. That's where I was before I woke up the hospital."  
  
"Whoa! Slow down, hospital? Missing kid? What is going on here?" I ask.  
  
Diane fills me in on more information and what I'm hearing I'm starting to like less and less. A little girl held captive by some unknown captors, a strange industrial area, and darkness falling early. This place is really starting to give me the creeps. All I want to do is find Diane, get whoever this kid is away from her captors and get the hell out of here.  
  
"Diane, stay where you are, I'll be right there!" I snap abruptly and start running.  
  
Questions start firing off in my head as I run down Ellroy Street. Where are the police? Come to think of it, aside from the kid I saw earlier, Diane, Gillespie, the mysterious old guy, and myself I haven't seen anyone. So where the hell are the townsfolk? If a child was missing, and this town is the sort of small New England town where no one needs to lock their doors, why aren't the police focusing their effort to bring Alessa back? If some kind of group is operating in the town cult, a terrorist cell of some kind, whatever it is, then why haven't we heard about it? They'd have to either be holding the population as a whole hostage, in which case there'd be a lot of them. Or even more disturbing, the town itself could be in on it. Dear God I'm getting paranoid...  
  
But even if I'm being paranoid, I have a gut feeling that answering any one of these questions will eliminate the rest. And I also have a gut feeling that I'm not gonna like the answer in the least.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Unknown POV)  
  
Yes, Half Eared One, the town is in on 'it', as you say. And you won't like the answer in the least. For centuries the people of this town have been in my thrall and worship me as a god. Few have escaped my world, and should you escape, I will be damned to the abyss for all eternity. However, should you not I will be free to wreck havoc upon the world. To think, an entire world in flames, to burn for all eternity. Such a lovely thing to contemplate by inferno's light.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(Diane's POV)  
  
The nerve of that man! Sometimes I think my partner has absolutely no faith in my abilities as an investigator or that I can take care of myself. Where does he get the idea that I'm some kind of damsel in distress needing to be rescued? I can take care of myself, thank you very much.  
  
"Mrs. Gillespie?" I ask, in my brief talk with Rusty apparently she just disappeared.  
  
Alright, if there was already one dead person in the alley plus one missing girl and no police department around one of two things is happening. First the police haven't gotten here yet. Second, and creepiest, is that the police are either gone or in on whatever's going on in this town. Great, it's usually Rusty who's the paranoid one, but why is it that the second theory seems correct.  
  
Rusty had been acting strange ever since we were assigned the Davies investigation. He was a lot more paranoid than usual, that's for sure...  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
(One week earlier)  
  
The Naval Criminal Investigative Service office building, adjacent to the building shared by the Judge Advocate General Corps in Falls Church was part of a larger compound devoted to military law and criminal investigation. Diane Schonke returned a salute by the Marine gate guard as she walked into the building to her office.  
  
She put down her handbag and left her cover on her desk as she walked over to the conference room for roll call. She ran into Rusty on the way, who was nursing a cup of coffee in a sealable metal mug bearing the Scouts and Raiders trident insignia.  
  
"Hey Rusty." Diane said, with a friendly grin.  
  
Rusty noticeably came to life, with his trademark lopsided grin. It was a good deal more careworn than it had been when they were midshipmen at the Academy, but that's what happens to a man who's been in a major war. Or a man who just saw a childhood dream go down the toilet a year ago. She could see the scars, small but numerous around his left ear from the burns and grenade fragments. He still carried himself with that same quiet confidence from their Academy days. Now there were a few more ribbons and a warfare device on his chest. The gold trident, the much coveted pin of a Navy Scout, glistened brightly in the sunlight of the nearby window. It was the culmination of a dream of a young boy. His short black hair was cropped short, in its usual crew cut, though not bristle headed and white side walled like their Marine commanding officer. His small black eyes were truly mirrors of whatever was inside him, she could tell after years of knowing him. They'd light up noticeably whenever he'd had an idea or figured out something really important.  
  
"Hey Diane." Rusty replied with an enigmatic grin, "You don't suppose Franks has a case for us today. Somehow I've got a feeling one's coming on."  
  
Rusty studied Diane briefly with his eyes as they spoke. She still wore her brown hair short, above her shoulders, just above her neck. It really brought out and complemented the rich brown shade of her eyes. Her surface warfare pin gleamed gold in the light which also played a dazzling trick with the light brown of her hair. Many things about his life had changed over the past decade, but Diane was still a beautiful woman.  
  
"Lieutenant Puckett, sir." Yeoman Third Class Mike Hadley, a young man from Australia, said, "Colonel Franks would like to see you and Lieutenant Schonke in his office."  
  
"I knew it." Rusty said, with another small grin.  
  
"You jinxed us." Diane joked with a smile of her own, "You stinker."  
  
"I do not stink. I bathed this morning." Rusty mock protested, sniffing under his arm to emphasize his point.  
  
"Rusty..." Diane began as the approached the colonel's office.  
  
"Colonel Franks, sir." Hadley announced, "Lieutenants Puckett and Schonke as ordered."  
  
Both were ushered in and came to attention in front of their commanding officer's desk. "At ease. Have a seat." Franks began.  
  
Franks was a rugged looking man in his early forties, with his graying black hair cut in a classic Marine high and tight. His Marine Corps tropical uniform was impeccable as always, his creases sticking out prominently from his shirt, his ribbons in perfect order, his shoes shiny enough to be mirrors. Despite his stern air, Franks was approachable and respected and admired by anyone who had served under him. He had started his small unit of twelve investigators, whom he jokingly called his Twelve Apostles, for the NCIS in 2146 after the Biohazard had ended and he combed the Navy and Marine Corps for those whom he thought would work best for undercover criminal investigation and counterterrorism work.  
  
He eyed easily his best investigative team. Schonke and Puckett worked well together, he noticed, complimenting each other through respective strengths. Schonke was extremely organized, tending to find the most logical solution in cases. Puckett was the exact opposite, he tended to operate on his own instincts and follow his gut feelings. He could usually guess which one wrote the report for any given case. He often compared Schonke's reports with a technical manual, in reference to her organizational skills, and Puckett's to reading a paperback detective thriller, in reference to his seemingly haphazard manner of solving cases.  
  
"Well, the reason I wanted to see you two is because frankly I want my best team on this case." Franks began, "It seems a Petty Officer Tonya Davies was taking leave at a resort town named Silent Hill. Her holiday was prematurely terminated."  
  
'Very funny Arnold.' Diane thought, referring to the popular twentieth century actor's trilogy of movies. She took her copy of the case file, from Rusty and noticed an uncharacteristic shaking in his hands.  
  
"I want this investigation to be as discreet as possible." Franks began, and his tone softened, "And I want you on the case as soon as possible. Those are my parameters for this. Diane, keep Rusty in check this time. I really don't want a repeat of the Palo Alto motorcycle incident."  
  
"Yes sir." Diane replied, she noticed Rusty didn't throw his normal mock glare whenever their CO usually threw those comments their way. And whatever picture was in the file she hadn't opened yet had to be something seriously disturbing for a veteran Scout to look spooked.  
  
"Dismissed." Franks ordered.  
  
With that command both stood up, came to attention, and turned out of the office. When they were out in the hall, Diane noticed Rusty intently staring at the photograph of the murdered sailor. "Rusty? Are you alright?"  
  
"Diane, what does this say to you?" Rusty said, holding one of the black and white photograph. The woman's ebony complexion was darkened around one of her eyes by a bruise. There was ligature about her neck, wrists, and ankles, suggesting she had been tied up and struggling in her last moments of life. There were markings on her body, shallow cuts, abrasions, burn marks, nothing serious or life threatening on their own, but cumulatively adding up to a large loss of blood.  
  
"I'm guessing those cuts are ritualistic." Diane replied, "It sounds like something a cult would do."  
  
Rusty froze in his tracks, like a tank hit by an artillery shell. "Of course it makes sense, judging from her wounds. But take a look at the ligature, it seems to suggest hospital restraints, leather straps and so forth." Rusty replied, "I'm guessing that whoever did this must be a mental health worker or possibly the cult might be pervasive in the area."  
  
As he continued to speak, his tone became more hushed, as if even speaking of the deceased was a bad omen. It was ridiculous, an entire town involved in a ritualistic cult that could be responsible for a murder? But as both of them knew, it was equally ridiculous to throw out every assumption out of hand. Diane decided to file that one way back in her mind.  
  
"I'm going home and getting packed." Diane replied, "Meet me at my place in a half hour?"  
  
"I'll be there." Rusty replied. Why was it that every hair on his head stood on end when his CO mentioned Silent Hill? He'd never even heard of the place until then, but why was a strange sense of déjà vu and dread mixing into his guts.  
  
A half hour later, Diane opened the door to her apartment to find Rusty in his civilian clothes with his green Land Rover parked in front of her apartment. He looked a little calmer, but she could still sense his unease about this case. There had to be something significant about that town if even the mention of it was enough to make him nervous.  
  
"Would you like a drink?" Diane asked.  
  
"No thanks. It's a long drive up to Brahms. We'd best get going." Rusty said, as he took her bag for her and tossed it into the back of her Mustang. Diane locked the door to her apartment, making sure that her spare key was well hidden.  
  
"Rusty, listen to me, what's the matter?" Diane asked.  
  
"I don't know, exactly." Rusty began, "But I've got a very bad feeling about this place..."  
  
TBC 


End file.
